


eddie spra-grettie

by stellarmads



Series: reddie moments [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, M/M, Underage Drinking, an asshole and a mess, and hug richie, brief mentions of the other losers, but a good asshole, but cute ending!, eddie just needs to take a vacation, richie is just a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 19:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12327390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmads/pseuds/stellarmads
Summary: Richie and Eddie get in fight, and both are hot messes that can't talk about their feelings.





	eddie spra-grettie

**Author's Note:**

> I apparently am double posting. I just needed to get this out of my system, because I've been thinking about it for days. On another note, quizzes keep telling me I'm Eddie (which probably just the ultimate combo of OCD and anxiety) but hey that's fun and rad. What do Loser do you guys normally get?

It’s just like Richie to go too far, say something he can’t take back. 

Looking back on it, Eddie can’t even remember what he said. Something cruel, all too harsh. He’s used to his boyfriend taking it to the next level, but it’s just one too many comments in short of a period of time. 

They’re fighting over something stupid, and it just slips out. Richie knows he’s messed up, Eddie can see it in the way his eyes widen behind his (way too dirty) glasses. Eddie takes a sharp breath, red hot emotion flaring up, struggling to keep a calm composure. 

“Get out.”

“Eds,” Richie says weakly. Eddie shakes his head, fists trembling at his sides.

“I mean it Richie. Get out.” When he doesn’t move, Eddie raises his voice, going a little shrill. “Get out!” He pushes then, just a small shove, and Richie stumbles back. A range of emotions flicker across his face too quickly for Eddie to distinguish, and then he’s crawling out the window he just came through not more than thirty minutes ago. 

He’s not going to cry, Eddie tells himself firmly, crawling into bed, throat constricting. He will not cry over Richie Asshole Tozier. 

\---

None of the Losers are really sure what to do. Stan and Bill sit uncomfortably between them in English, pretending it’s not weird that neither of them are attempting to pass notes back and forth. Instead, the four of them stare stiffly ahead. Their English teacher remarks this is the first time any of them have paid so much attention to the lesson. 

At lunch, Ben starts to ask why they’re acting so weird, before getting a swift kick from Bev underneath the table. Everyone eats in silence. It’s awful. Eddie thinks he’d take a hundred killer clowns over one more moment of the tense air between them. 

 

Richie stops showing up to school. Rumor is he’s taken to hanging out with the dropouts in the woods, getting high and fucking around. Stan apparently drops by the arcade one day to ask him if he’s coming back to school. Richie had shrugged. 

Everyone is watching Eddie closely, with concerned eyes. Eddie pretends like he doesn’t notice, like he doesn’t know how bad he looks. Red rimmed eyes, dark circles, and rumpled clothes. It’s the closest he’s ever looked to sick, and Bev has taken to trying to convince him to eat more than a few bites of the lunchroom salad. Really, that’s enough to raise concern by itself. The school salad is terrible. 

 

When it goes on two weeks, Bill says in a hushed whisper to Stan that if Richie doesn’t show up soon, he’s going to be marked truant. Eddie refuses to turn his head, give any indication he’s heard. So what if that dickwad drops out? It’s not his business. It’s _not_. 

_Yeah, that’s why you cry yourself to sleep every night_ a small voice whispers in the back of his mind. 

\----

Eddie’s at his wit’s end. It’s late, he hasn’t finished his stupid Algebra homework, and his eyes sting so bad. He sniffles, leaning back on his bed. Maybe if he falls asleep now, he can get up in the morning and finish it.

He’s drifting off when there’s a series of taps against his window. He blinks awake, staring at it, before another volley of wood chips smack against it. He crawls off his bed, hurrying over the window, pushing it open. Richie is down below, shivering in just his AC/DC shirt and a pair of holey jeans. (Eddie could have sworn Richie said he was going to throw them out.) 

“What do you want?” Eddie hisses. 

“Eddie. Edsss. Eddie Spra-gretti.” Richie laughs, leaning forward and almost toppling over before he rights himself. 

“Are you drunk?” Eddie asks incredulously, anger apparent in his voice. 

“Romeo, Romeo, wherever art thou Romeo?” Richie calls back, laughing again, taking small aborted steps closer to the fire ladder leading to Eddie’s window. 

“That’s not even the right line, dumbshit. I’d be saying that, since I’m up in the window.” Eddie says crossly. “Go back home Richie.” He moves to close the window, and Richie stumbles forward, actually falling over. 

“Wait! Fuck-Ed, Eddie,” He pushes himself up, stumbling again, and shakes his head, like a poor attempt to sober himself up. “I just. I need to talk to you. I’ve been sitting at the quarry all night, and I was thinking ‘hey, wouldn’t it be cool to go for a late night swim’ but that seemed like a shitty idea, because I know you would say it’s a shitty idea, and I just really fucking need to talk to you and I really need you to fucking listen and I’m sorry I’m coming to you all drunk, I know you hate me, and me being drunk probably makes me hate you more, but I need to say something, so please let me in before I vomit on your lawn.” 

He says this all in one breath, which is honestly impressive, and he does look a little green. Eddie huffs, mutters “fine”, not waiting to see if Richie heard him, before stepping back. 

There’s a lot of grunting and cussing as Richie slowly climbs the ladder, and there’s a brief moment of worrying silence. Eddie considers checking to see if’ he’s fallen and broken something, but then Richie finally hauls himself in, toppling onto the floor. 

“You have like, five minutes.” Eddie says, glaring down at him. Richie is immediately struggling to his feet, shirt rumpled and curls going everywhere. 

“Eddie. God, I don’t know how to say this, I’m so bad at words Eddie, you know that, you have to know that. I’m not all poetic and shit like Ben, or all silent and meaningful like Mike. I’m a fucking wreck Eddie, a huge wreck, more of a wreck than when Stan crashed his bike into that fence and there was fucking blood everywhere, you remember that?” He shakes his head again, seeming to forget where he was heading.  
“But you’re so good Eddie, so small and good and cute and I don’t know how I deserve you, I don’t deserve you. You deserve someone like Bill or Bev, someone kind and smart and someone who doesn’t joke about fucking your mom or some stupid shit like that. I don’t want to wake up one day and see that you’re stuck with me, I don’t want to turn into my parents and be horrible, and I’m so selfish for keeping you around. Don’t you get it Eds? Don’t you see how bad I am for you?” 

He’s staring at him earnestly, looking like he’s either going to throw up or cry. Eddie prays he doesn’t throw up on his bed. Riche continues, slurring a little on some of the syllables. “I’m in fucking love with you, and I shouldn’t be and I’m so fucking sorry.” 

Eddie needs more than a few seconds to process all the words that just came out of his mouth, but Richie is looking at him like he’s offered him his entire life. Maybe in Richie’s eyes, he really has. He knows how Richie values himself only through others, how if he goes quiet even for a second, he might disappear.

“You could have told me this sooner asshole, instead of waiting to get shitfaced to show up and just spew it all out.” Are the words that he decides on. “You could have told me you were scared and I would have punched you and then probably kissed you, because fuck you Richard Tozier, you are good enough for me, and I’m capable of making my own decisions. You don’t get to push me away just because you think I deserve better, because you’re all I want, and I fucking love you too!” He says that last part a little louder than he means to, and both freeze, waiting to hear footsteps as Mrs. Kaspbrak thunders down the hall. It’s quiet. 

Richie turns back to look at him, eyes gleaming a little, and jesus fuck is he crying? He goes to open his mouth and say something, but Eddie beats him to the punch. 

“And I’m going to repeat all of this in the morning when you’re sober and probably very hungover, and then you’re going to sneak out my window and head to school, and I will see you there, because you are _not_ dropping out. Now get in bed.” 

He pulls back the covers, pointing sternly, and for once in his life Richie is speechless. He does as he’s told, (thankfully) remembering to pull off his shoes and crawls in, Eddie following him and burying his face in the crook of his neck. 

“You’re such an asshole.” He mutters after a few minutes. Richie doesn’t hear him, already asleep, but he presses just a bit closer to Eddie.


End file.
